Shallow Waters
by Arclur97
Summary: "Hello," the boy says. His voice is melodious, soft, sweet. The creature opens her mouth and emits a string of music. Mermaid!Rin, Human!Len. Noncest.
**A/N: I wrote this story a while ago and just finished it today. Was alternatively titled "A Love Story Between These Two Idiots," "I Wrote a Thing," and "Mermaids are Hella Rad." Rin is a spin-off of a mermaid and Len is your average Joe-schmoe. Loved finishing this, mostly because I have fifteen hundred things lined up to finish and this was just one thing I could kick off the list.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Vocaloid.**

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Ocean waves lap at the shore, pushing shells and tiny clams onto the beach. Starfish bathe in the shallows left by the tide, waiting for the waves to pull them back to sea.

A boy sits on the shore, feet submerged in the water, whistling a cheery tune as sea foam collects around his ankles. He cannot be more than eight years old. The boy is very thin, short, and feminine looking, appearance not yet hardened by masculine features. His sandy hair blows in the beach's strong winds, and his eyes, the color of the waves, reflect the light refracted in the water.

He whistles once more, waits silently.

Then his whistle echoes back to him. The tune is slightly off, but the boy appears delighted none the less, scooting into the water so the waves lap around his waist, his knees poke through the surface. And a blonde head rises up out of the sea, not five feet from him.

He smiles at it, his creature, for it cannot be human; its ears are webbed, and the webbed hand peeking out of the ocean is grotesquely clawed, decorated with cerulean swirls. The creature smiles back, teeth perfectly aligned and white, eyes the color of the green-blue sea foam gathering at the boy's waist. It's eyes are girlish, nose button-like, lips perfect. Had its ears not been webbed and its hands clawed, it could have passed as a small girl, no older than the boy on the beach.

The boy smiles at the creature as it swims up to him, tail swishing in the shallows and propelling her to his side. She pushes her torso out of the water while rivulets drip down her back, flips herself over, digs her hands into the sand to support her weight. Over her upper body sits a meticulously wrapped mesh of seaweed, shells, and crab carcasses, tied around her neck by a narrow strip of kelp. She hums, voice incredibly odd, and just sits next to the boy.

"Hello," the boy says. His voice is melodious, soft, sweet. The creature opens her mouth and emits a string of music.

They do not speak but for small hums and whistles. The absence of concrete words between them is borne out of a long companionship, not inability to communicate.

When the sun sets, both creature and boy return to their respective homes with an unspoken promise to meet tomorrow. Their promise is always upheld, so they sit together, the boy content to have someone to share the lovely beach with, the creature content to bask in the presence of a human.

For days, this goes on. Days turn into months. Months become years.

The boy grows older, jaw sharpening, hands growing less delicate, more capable. The creature grows in multiple ways - its fingers become longer, daintier. Claws that were once dull with disuse are sharper from hunting fish and cracking open oysters. The feminine curve of her jaw is new, just as the defined muscles in the boy's arms are new as well.

When the creature arrives at the dry beds on a warm day in autumn, her human is nowhere to be seen.

The same thing occurs the next day.

And the next.

She wonders what happened. Was he injured? Did he get eaten by other dry bed dwellers? Questions emerge every time she swims to the dry beds and sees empty shallows. Where did her companion go?

After a month of swimming to the dry beds, she stops. She assumes that he left, he abandoned her, and she swims back into the deep waters of the ocean, throat tight.

One evening a few years later, she finds herself swimming by a dock. A human appears to be sitting on the edge, legs dangling over the edge and partially submerged in the water. She swims closer to have a better look.

The human appears to be her boy, only his legs are long, lean, masculine. She swims beneath him, chattering quietly to herself.

Yes, this is her boy. She remembers him. He's grown.

Does he remember her?

Quietly, almost like an eel in the night, she propels herself to the surface of the water and gazes up at him. He stares back.

"You're _real_ ," he murmurs, clearly shocked.

She sings quietly, whistles.

He whistles too, feet kicking in the water gently, almost shyly, stirring dark water and creating ripples.

Dropping down beneath the water, ignoring the muffled shout of "Hey, wait!" she swims down into the dark blue waters of the ocean, then propels herself up from the depths. Springing out of the water like a bird, she settles with a loud _thump_ on the dock beside him.

He startles, leans away with a surprised "Okay— wow, did not see that coming," then quietly settles into place at her side, staring out over the expanse of the ocean. Her glowing cerulean swirls cast patterns on the broken surface of the water.

They say nothing for a while. The moon sails high over their heads, casting light over the dock, adding to the faint blue glow emitted from her luminescent skin.

"It's late," murmurs the boy, regret evident in the tone of his voice. He begins to rise, leaning away from her. "I should go."

As soon as the creature realizes he intends to leave, she grips his arm, careful not to pierce his skin with her claws.

"What? You want me to stay?" Fondness is evident in his relaxed shoulders, the curve of his smile, the softness in his eyes. "I suppose a bit longer won't hurt. My parents might wonder where I am, though." As he again slumps into her arm, warm and strong at her side, she realizes she would be content to stay this way forever.

Silence reigns supreme for another long hour. Then the boy murmurs,

"I really have to go."

The creature only hears unintelligible murmuring weighed down by almost _tangible_ reluctance. He turns to her, presses his warm lips to the ridge of her cheek, then slowly rises.

She stares after him as he walks into the night, completely shocked, wondering _why_. Why did he do that? Does he know what that _means_ to her kind?

He pauses, looks over his shoulder.

She sings to him, heart beating faster than she knows is natural.

He whistles back.

They part ways again, both privately resolving to meet again tomorrow.

On the dock, at the seam of land and sea, the boy waits for his creature to return. She's older now, he reflects; beautiful. Her skin and body is flawless, her voice more so, and he cannot get enough of her. Awareness of obvious differences does not prevent him from wanting her, needing her. For years while studying up North he thought she was simply a childhood fantasy.

Now he knows she is not. And he wants her, but is sure he can't have her.

On her way to the shore, the creature thinks about her boy, now older. She admits that she loves him. Obviously last night he presented a human show of affection to her, a gesture that makes her overjoyed to recount—if not for the meaning in her culture, then for the obvious meaning in his.

Her pod taught her of the joys love brought. Everlasting companionship, security, strength. To find her love is to find beauty in the world. But she was told to be weary of whom she chooses, for as a member of her species, she can only choose a companion once.

At dusk the two once again meet, and she sits next to him on the dock, tail fins brushing the smooth surface of the water. Sunlight reflects on the surface of the ocean at the horizon as the sunset fades slowly into a dark blanket of twilight. They sit in silence, both human and creature on the verge of something new and dangerously enthralling.

For long moments he thinks about turning to her and kissing her, but stops himself before he moves. Would she understand? They can barely communicate; if not for whistles and eye contact, they never would know what the other was even remotely feeling. There were other incompatibilities he did not want to acknowledge, too. Obvious ones.

She turns to him, big blue eyes looking up into his—what she wants is obvious; the look is readable in any language—and he realizes it doesn't matter.

While she waits patiently for him to do something, _anything_ , he bites at his lip, opens his mouth as though to speak. It seems he has no idea what to do with his hands; at one moment they're at her hair, smoothing the wet golden strands behind her ears. At another they're at her elbow, or hovering just over her clawed hand.

Her boy seems to settle for one at her arm, barely skimming damp skin, and the other firm on the deck, the tips of his fingers just touching her claws.

"Listen," he whispers, voice unsteady, hoarse, "I know you understand some of what I say. We should—we should not be doing this." His fingertips brush her arm, trace their way over her covered collarbone, but she can't look because she's too transfixed by his eyes, blue and hard as crystal. "Tell me to stop," his voice breaks. "Please."

She blinks up at him, comprehending his words, his actions.

For a second he thinks she might do as he requested, but then she leans in with her eyes closed, trusting. She is only centimeters away, and how either of them have held out for this long, neither know.

What the creature hears her boy murmur is pretty much the human equivalent of her own "fuck it," a low and deep sound, then his mouth is on hers.

The kiss is soft and warm and somehow not enough for both of them. She presses her tongue to the seam of his lips, wanting more, _needing_ more, and his lips part for her willingly like he was made for her. It's warm, so warm, she'll never be able to go back to the ocean again.

Breath coming in a gasp when they part, he envelopes her in his arms, pulling her flush to him. Her arms come up around his neck, and she kisses him so hungrily he feels light headed and hot, leaving everywhere they don't touch cold as water.

The wooden dock creaks under their weight, and her tail slaps the water, scattering sparkling gems over the ocean's surface.

Her fingers trail down over the crook of his neck and shoulder, claws scraping at his back. A shiver wracks through him and she can feel it, she can revel in the way his lips involuntarily part again under hers. The effect she has on him, the creature finds, is delightful, and she wants to elicit more gasps and shudders from him.

By the time he realizes they are leaning too far towards the water, the two are already halfway off the dock, hanging frozen in midair.

Their fall into the ocean is punctuated by a short shout and a surprised whistle. Moments tick by where confusion and shock reign, then they resurface, laughing in the synchronized way that only the young creature and boy can.

Years after their misadventure at the dock, and many more misadventures that lead to Len—her boy, she learns, is called Len—buying a house on the edge of the ocean, they begin to develop a bond. Through the bond they share images of their past; Len shares what life is like in the North, Rin shares images of her life at sea.

Sometimes they share emotions, feelings. Sometimes they share more.

The construction of their house is questioned by many, sure, as the ocean is routed straight into the basement of the house. Len simply explains that he wants a live part of the ocean in his home, and he has the money to make it happen.

Rin explained to her pod that she found her loved one, and left soon after with many goodbyes and blessings. The pod never realized that their Rin fell in love with a human, Len knows. Rin tells him as much. His family has no idea that he loves a mermaid, either.

It's better that way, they decide. Less drama. Less chance of death or discovery. Their families' lack of knowledge doesn't bother them much, anyway.

For now, all they need is each other.

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 **Little conflict, much fluff. There you go. :)  
**


End file.
